


The Human Dolls

by Pigeons_have_feet



Category: Barbie - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeons_have_feet/pseuds/Pigeons_have_feet
Summary: Horror story with a sentient Barbie character trying to recreate her "family" by turning people into Barbie dolls.
Kudos: 3





	The Human Dolls

Really? This is where that bitch who’s screwing my man is living? I look around at the perfectly manicured lawn, elegant stone pavers led up to the front porch. She even has those fancy spiral shrubs potted in between the marble columns holding up the roof of the porch. Maybe this was a bad idea. I hover right outside my crappy Volkswagen, hand resting on the door handle. You know what? No. I didn’t insta stalk him for days to find out who this “new friend” of his was or call his work to confirm he lied about where he was going today just to run. Screw this, I’m goin’ in.   
I march up to the front door, painted a god-awful, hot pink color, and knock.   
BAM BAM BAM. “Hellllooo! Teddy are you in there?”   
After impatiently waiting on the porch for a minute, a woman answers the door.   
Dear God, plastic surgery much bitch? I have to take a step back to fully take her in. Man, she’s like super model level tall.   
“Hello, can I help you?” her voice was soothing, yet she was staring at me with unblinking eyes.   
“Hey, look I’m just here to get my boyfriend, I know he’s here.” I shove past her into the house, nearly poking my eye out on her freaky, gravity-defying boobs. “TEDDY! Your ass is mine, get out here now!”   
“He’s… fixing his hair, at the moment. Should be down in a minute. Can I interest you in some refreshments while we wait?” The woman tilted her head to the side, her straight, gold hair swaying.   
“Um… sure. Hey you know he’s not single right?”   
She turned without a word and started walking down the hall to what I assume in the kitchen. Maybe she’s in shock. As we walk down the clean, white hall I start looking around. Why are there no pictures on the wall? No artwork? What does Teddy see in her? She’s fake as fuck.  
She walks over to a stainless-steel fridge and pulls out a glass pitcher of water. She then struts to the pale pink cabinet, her legs barely bending, and pulls out two glasses and sets them on the counter. She pours water into both and takes a sip of one, gesturing at the other one for me to have.   
“What my cheating boyfriend doesn’t get some water? I could use another glass to throw at his face.” I chuckle and lean against the white granite counter, taking a sip of water. Is anything in this house not white or pink? “Look, I know Teddy played you too. Maybe we can be friends after all this,” I lie, like I would ever be friends with this bimbo. “I’m Meredith by the way, I don’t think I caught your name.”  
She just continued to sip at her water, not looking at me. I shifted from foot to foot, awkwardly looking around the room. Something wasn’t right, Meredith couldn’t hear anyone else moving around in the house. Maybe Teddy isn’t here and this lady is crazy.   
“You know,” I lean forward and try to catch her eye as she stands next to me “I think I’m just gonna go. Teddy must have crawled out the bathroom window or something to escape my wrath.” I take a few steps back and start to turn back toward the front door. A hand lunges out and grabs my wrist.   
That hand was not human.   
“I know who you are, he told me about you.” The thing still sounded pleasant and sweet.   
My wrist was locked in her iron grasp and when I turned back to tell her to let go I fell to the floor in shock.   
She was still facing the counter; well her body was anyway. Her arm swung straight back to grab me. Her neck was turned past her shoulder, an inhuman motion, to stare at me.   
“What the fuck is this? Let go” I try to inch backward on the floor but couldn’t break her hold.   
“My name is Barbie. Come play with me”   
“Fuck that! Let go. Look you can have Teddy; I don’t give a shit. Just let me leave.” I claw at her arm, which I now realize is made of some kind of plastic. Holy shit, she is a Barbie.   
Her permanent smile, what I originally thought was Botox, widened as she says again “Come play with me,” in her high pitch, cheery voice. Her pink and white stripped dress didn’t move at all as she steps around me and starts pulling me across the floor. I kick out at her legs and knock off one of her heels. Her foot holds its shape and she doesn’t even miss a beat as she continues to drag me. My head begins to spin and the kitchen comes in and out of focus. Did she drug the water?  
This wasn’t looking good for me. I plant my feet against her rock-hard ass and yank at her arm. My plan was to pop her arm out of the socket like I use to do with my Barbies as a child.   
“Nice try” Barbie laughed, “but Mattel gave me threaded shoulder sockets in 2000”.   
Fuck.   
My vision began to fade as I struggled flail around on the floor. I couldn’t break her hold on my wrist. Barbie hauled me across the sleek marble floor. Back down the hall, back into the foyer. I strain for the door handle as we passed the front door. Barbie dragged me onward, my sweat-slick hand unable to grab the smooth, metal knob. I choke out a sob, Barbie only squeezed my wrist tighter. I hear a door open behind us and a dull thunk as my butt hit the first stair. Going down, down, down into the darkness. Into the basement.   
***  
I awoke strapped to what felt like a metal operating table. I wrenched my shoulders against the straps, but they held tight.   
“Hello?”   
Above me a single florescent light glowed, the rest of the room in darkness. Hearing the eerie squeak of Barbies plastic hips near my head I try and peer above me. There she is, slowly leaning over my face. My head jerks back and slams against the table. FUCK that hurt. Wincing I look up and I can see every stroke of her makeup application. Her face is smooth, completely unmarked by wrinkles, laugh lines, or acne. Her lashes and eyebrows were draw onto her face, a mockery of a person’s face. The light over the operating table glints off her plastic eyes, embedded into her hollow head. Her stiff, golden hair stays directly behind her, even while she’s leaning down.   
“What do you want?” I whisper, afraid to break the silence between us.   
She straightens abruptly and waddle walks to the side of my head. She begins to stroke my hair, the seams on her fingers snagging and pulling it.   
“Why I have plans for you, I just want you to be a part of the family again. When Ken told me about you, I couldn’t believe the resemblance to my sister Skipper. How I miss her.” She stroked my hair again, “You have the most beautiful black hair. Near perfect, except…” She trailed off and turned away from me. She was back in a moment with what looked like hair dye. Grabbing a section of my hair she begins applying to goopy liquid to my locks.   
“Ken? Skipper? Who are they? I don’t know them,” One last desperate plea, “If you let me go, I can help you find them.”  
“That won’t be necessary, I’ve already have Ken and I found you, silly. Now hold still, I may be a trained hair dresser, but if you move it could ruin my application. I’m just giving your hair a pop of purple. This will be the least drastic change we make today.”  
“I’m sorry, what? What the fuck else are you going to change, you crazy, plastic bitch?” My voice became high and shrill. I lunge up against the restraint toward her. “Let me go!”  
She presses her hand against my head, slamming it back into the table. “I told you to hold still, you almost made me mess up the bleach.”   
Defeated, I slump back against the table. How am I going to get out of this? I’m gonna get murdered by my boyfriends side hoe, great I can see the headline now. Local girl murdered by boyfriends mistress. Can you even be a mistress if the guy isn’t married? Oh god, I’m never going to get married. Well, least I’m not dying a virgin, check that off the bucket list at least. I DON’T EVEN HAVE A BUCKETLIST. Ok, ok calm down. Now is not the time to panic. Breath and pay attention.   
Satisfied with her work she puts the brush down and turns toward a surgical tray. On the tray were carefully laid out instruments, pliers, forceps, scalpels.   
“Wait. What are you doing now?”   
“Not to worry Skipper, I’m a trained surgeon, nurse, trauma doctor, and dentist. You’ll be perfect when I’m done with you. Just like Ken.” She gestures to the left of me and with her other hand flips a switch along the wall.   
I scream.   
Standing against the wall is my boyfriend Teddy. His eyes are sewn wide open and his once brown eyes are now blue. Something has been inserted into the skin around his mouth to make it permanently smile. His hair is bleached and styled in a swoop toward his back. He is naked and fake abs have been inserted over his real ones to make them hard and defined. My eyes trail downward past his hips and I bite back another scream. Yup, his penis is gone. Unable to look at what was once there my eyes trail back up. His arms are rim rod straight and I can tell by the x-rays hanging above him that some kind of pole has been inserted over his bones to keep them that way.   
“Isn’t he perfect?” Barbie waddled over to Teddy and stroked his face. “Once I’m finished with his clothes, he can take me on a date, just like he use too.”  
She swivels her torso 90 degrees, sticks one leg straight out, then pirouettes her hips so the whole of her is facing forward. She tiptoes, stiffly, back to the surgical tray.  
“Why are you doing this Barbie? I- I thought you loved people,” my voice was hindered by my sobs. It was the only thing I could to, sob and beg for my life. It was too late to help Teddy; trust me he would rather be dead than what he is now. If I can escape, then maybe I could trap them inside, burn the house down, and end this nightmare.   
She paused at this, pondering the question. Her head turned 180 degrees to look at me, hands still messing with the tools in that tray.   
“Because I’m Barbie, I can be anything I want to be.” She picked up a scalpel and walked back to my metal slap. “Now unfortunately I couldn’t get ahold of any anesthetics, you need an ID and license for that, and unfortunately for you I haven’t been an aesthetician yet. However, I do have this lovely hypnosis video I made for you to watch to get into that spunky Skipper mindset.” She reaches up and turns on a small TV directly over my face. A black and white spiral begins spinning and Barbie’s voice begins to tell me to breath and relax.   
My breath is too ragged for me to speak, I don’t want to be a Barbie doll. She makes a small incision in the side of my mouth. It burns. I barely notice, I’m so focued on the spiral. I don’t want to be a Barbie. Her soothing voice plays on the TV. I don’t want to be. The black and white swirl swarms my vision. It’s all I see now. I don’t want. I feel my lips being pulled and stretched. I don’t. My body relaxes as Barbies melodious voice fills my every thought. I am a Barbie doll.


End file.
